Well, this is it, Ford supposes. This is what the future is going to look like: Bill, teasing him to get a reaction, and Ford, reacting. Bill flirtng, and Ford saying no. Bill pushing, and Ford waiting for this to be the death of him. Friends, sort of; enemies bizarrely attached, always searching for the middle ground.
It already feels exhausting. Unsatisfying. It's going to be work from Ford and play from Bill. But he'll handle the stress like he always does, and not by flirting back out of a perverse need to not be the one always being passive while he's endlessly messed with.
"You," Ford says, rounding on Bill, "look incredible in ultraviolet. I don't know if it was the sunset or the fact that I had been conditioned by rogue geneticists to react to bright light sources, but it was very distracting."
What a fucking sentence, honestly, but Bill was there so he barely notices how much weirder their lives have become. Most of his attention is on the fact that Ford has admitted a moment of weakness.
"AW, FORDSY."
Bill is touched.
"I WISH YOU'D HAVE KEPT SOME OF THAT. I THINK YOU COULD DO A LOT WITH THAT TONGUE!"
As chipper as anything Bill says is.
Listen, the fact that as a moth he'd had an unrolling proboscis and that that had been extremely distracting is a matter of public record.
Bill thinks Ford's normal tongue isn't as good as the monster tongue, does he? Ford isn't insulted, exactly -- he's just inclined to push back, instead of just standing there feeling embarrassed insisting he's sure he doesn't know what Bill means.
"Come on," Ford says, his body language challenging, shifting forward. "You haven't even seen what the normal one does and you're complaining about it?"
It hadn't exactly been. It had been a desire to push back -- a strange combination of Ford having to take responsibility for managing how actively he participates in how far this goes and distaste for the idea of just sitting there while Bill teases and flirts somehow got him over the hurdle of his own reluctance to do anything even close to flirtation.
But now Bill's hand is in his hair and they're close together and shit fuck he really wants to do this. Ford's fingertips are a little bit tingly and his face is very warm and the light of Bill's glow doesn't do anything to stop just how wide his pupils are. His heart skips a beat, then starts pounding so hard Ford can hear it in his ears.
He looks Bill in the eye, challenging.
"Come here and find out."
Is it a bluff? Is it not a bluff? Is it just that everything that's been happening has Ford wound up tighter than a cello string and kissing Bill sounds like one of the only things that's felt nice that's happened to him in months? Who knows.
It's returned the same way: careful, testing, no tongue. But it does get returned.
When it breaks, Ford takes a moment to take stock of everything. Take a breath. There, that wasn't the end of the world. That's not due for another few weeks.
Okay.
Ford leans in for the second one. It's a touch bolder, now that the first one has him centered, reassured that nothing's breaking because of it. Still slow, but pushing just a little more, moving a little smoother, a little looser.
Bill's eye is gleaming when they break, delighted. He looks happily startled when Ford leans in again, and swaps his mouth over.
Bill's mouth is...odd. He has to blink out his eye to swap it in, for one thing, but the eyelashes stay close in to his body and don't get in the way. The whole thing feels too thin and too smooth to be human, bows outward oddly. He's warmer than a person, too. The light and heat he puts off come from the same glow of molten energy that keeps him buoyed off the ground at head-height.
"THAT ONLY TOOK US ABOUT A LIFETIME, HUH," Bill murmurs, when this one breaks. He doesn't look like he regrets it.
Ford hasn't pulled back far. If Bill's hand is still in his hair, Ford isn't making any effort to remove it. He wants it to stay there. He wants them to stay close. His posture is open, more unguarded than usual, and he's looking at Bill like he's never going to be able to take in enough, like his pupils are dilating so they can see him more.
"Something like that," Ford replies, just as quiet. "After all, we are both technically dead." He says, very romantically.
And on that note - we won - Bill kisses him again. This one isn't tentative or gentle, there's several years of frustration finally drifting free from where they had been lashed down and mixing with the boldness that the champagne is giving him and the giddy rush of being so close to victory.
Kiss three (or five, depending on how you're counting) is warm, and quickly turns openmouthed. if the other kisses were sparks, this one is a struck match. Ford's hand finds Bill's wrist and slides up his arm, to feel the unusual texture and to bring him closer. Another point of contact, another tether between them, another obstacle to breaking apart too fast.
No, they won't be here much longer. However this operation is going to go, things are going to change. But kissing Bill means that instead of thinking about that, about the rapidly shrinking window of time Ford has, his brain is producing reward chemicals, better than the numbing buzz of the champagne. He can just be in his body for a while, with...
It's more than just the fact that Ford's wanted to kiss Bill for months and hasn't done it. It's that it's Bill. There's weight behind it that wouldn't be there with anyone else. Complicated, horrible history; the sheer odds; the plan they're both neck-deep in. He's escaping, yes, but not from Bill.
Bill shouldn't have dragged Ford into any of this but - it didn't feel right without him. Didn't feel right not to finish what they started, what two chance accidents interrupted years ago. They're bringing full-circle a refrain they've been repeating, been stuck in, since before either of them had even heard of the Barge.
There's closure in this for Bill. A musical phrase he can finally cap off the last notes on, and move on to something new.
And with a new... friend? Minion? No, neither of those feel exactly right. Ford is - is-
Its hard to think like this. He'll figure it out later.
A small, satisfied sound leaks out of Bill and he turns into the kiss, changing the angle. The vine of his arm starts absently winding around Ford's hand in curls and coils.
He hears that sound, and something in Ford that had still been wound tight, ready for fight-or-flight, relaxes. It goes right to his instincts: it reassures that Ford's not the only one having trouble thinking, that it's okay to let go a little more. His hand slides up to Bill's side, thumb on the bricks in front and five more fingertips spread across Bill's back, and the kisses begin to blur into each other. It's just touch and dizzy warmth and the delirious thrill of being kissed by Bill-who's-been-frustrated-for-years, and the breaths Ford has to steal when they break apart have the timbre of sighs. They might be a little more controlled if he'd tried this sober, but he didn't, so they come out as soft little ahs.
He's got his back to the piano now, and as he pulls at Bill, stay here, he lets the instrument take more of his weight. If it's on wheels, he's completely forgotten about it and the risk that it might send him falling backwards. If it's not, they're fine.
It isn't; it'll take both their weight and apparently keep playing. I'll Be Seeing You has been on a loop for awhile now.
Bill's noises have gotten dreamier and less sharp; his pupil is blown out into a shiny circle when they part for Ford to breathe and his movements are slow and soft.
This is nice. Ford is good at this. Why didn't they do this earlier? He has totally forgotten. Who cares.
(He can't see.)
One hand stays on the side of Ford's head, holding him still and occasionally petting with his thumb, the other started latched in a fist around Ford's lapel but loosened into sliding around to his back. His teeth are very sharp, and there's not much room behind them at all, but they make it work.
The bad news is that Bill can still giggle in a loose, dazed way while his mouth is occupied - the voice doesn't come from there. So that happens at apparently random times.
It's really, really nice. It's taking the stress and frustration that's been lacing Ford's mind and lifting it away, replacing bad feelings with good ones. Bill's teeth are sharp and his mouth is weirdly shaped, but it's a mouth, and they make it work.
The fingertips on Bill's back curl sometimes -- not hard, no digging of fingernails, just a twitch every now and again, either an involuntary response or a half-formed desire to touch.
Bill giggles for the third...? Fourth? time (counting isn't important right now) and Ford lets the kiss break apart. He leans his forehead against Bill's point and tries to get enough oxygen in his lungs to ask -- "What - what's so funny?"
(His voice is. His voice has gone very funny, it's all thick and rough now.)
For once, it doesn't sound like pathological fear of being made fun of, or suspicion that he's being tricked. Bill just keeps giggling, and what's with that...?
He straightens up off the piano, taking a half-step forward, and leans into a new kiss. This is different from the other kisses. The kissing a moment ago was receptive, cooperative, and pleased. This one is active, decisive, and though Ford adjusts to how he's being kissed back, he's also clearly taking the lead. The hand at Bill's back brings Bill into it -- Bill's getting tilted a little bit backwards. This is a sweep-you-off-your-feet kiss, a kiss that's meant to leave you dizzy when it breaks. He's trying to impress, and he's showing off more than a little.
Bill's glow flickers, and the hand in Ford's hair tightens just to have something to hold onto. He sighs into the kiss, clutches at Ford, melts into it.
He's gonna feel self-conscious about it later, but right now he just does not have the mental bandwidth.
This usually works better when it's calculated. There's a correct length for it to be, and a precise amount of pressure to apply, and while of course adjustments need to be made based on initial feedback, the whole thing is most impressive when it's tightly controlled.
But he doesn't have that right now. He doesn't think to let up at the precisely correct moment. He doesn't think to not make a quiet, rough sound low in his throat, pulled out of him by the hand in his hair and the hands clinging to him and the melting sighs. He doesn't carefully time the way he bites Bill's lower lip so he can draw it out just so; it's a touch faster and a little harder than the average magazine-reading suburban housewife would enjoy. He's kissing more urgently than is appropriate in most cases, pushing harder than you would in a casual fling. Causal-fling kisses don't start turning fierce halfway through. They're not this passionate.
Bill doesn't care how long we're doing this for; Bill does not have to breathe.
Ford pulls a not-at-all-protesting "HH-" out of Bill when he bites him, and the increased emotion and energy gets a pull from Bill like quicksand, trying to draw Ford deeper rather than fighting him.
They break. Bill goes back into aimless giggling at nothing, leaning all his (admittedly tiny) weight on Ford. He apparently hears himself and reins it in, stabilizes his floating, but he really got knocked for a loop there.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2019-05-22 03:36 am (UTC)Eyelash flutter. Bill sips out of his flute.
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Date: 2019-05-22 03:47 pm (UTC)It already feels exhausting. Unsatisfying. It's going to be work from Ford and play from Bill. But he'll handle the stress like he always does, and not by flirting back out of a perverse need to not be the one always being passive while he's endlessly messed with.
"Hmph. I can do better than that," he says.
Not by flirting back, Ford.
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Date: 2019-05-22 11:54 pm (UTC)Ford flirting back is rare. This is a holofoil Ford in mint condition. This is exciting. Bill's eye brightens.
"OH CAN YOU, HUH? PROVE IT."
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Date: 2019-05-23 03:14 am (UTC)"You," Ford says, rounding on Bill, "look incredible in ultraviolet. I don't know if it was the sunset or the fact that I had been conditioned by rogue geneticists to react to bright light sources, but it was very distracting."
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Date: 2019-05-23 03:30 am (UTC)"AW, FORDSY."
Bill is touched.
"I WISH YOU'D HAVE KEPT SOME OF THAT. I THINK YOU COULD DO A LOT WITH THAT TONGUE!"
As chipper as anything Bill says is.
Listen, the fact that as a moth he'd had an unrolling proboscis and that that had been extremely distracting is a matter of public record.
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Date: 2019-05-23 04:01 am (UTC)--oh. Oh, it's a kissing thing.
...wait.
Bill thinks Ford's normal tongue isn't as good as the monster tongue, does he? Ford isn't insulted, exactly -- he's just inclined to push back, instead of just standing there feeling embarrassed insisting he's sure he doesn't know what Bill means.
"Come on," Ford says, his body language challenging, shifting forward. "You haven't even seen what the normal one does and you're complaining about it?"
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Date: 2019-05-23 04:14 am (UTC)"YOU KNOW, I HAVE A LITTLE, BUT IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO ESTABLISH A BASELINE!"
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Date: 2019-05-27 07:59 pm (UTC)It is a real shame. A shame they have not kissed more. A shame he is not kissing Bill Cipher.
"You should really be more familiar with the original one. Before you start thinking about changing it."
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Date: 2019-05-27 08:08 pm (UTC)"THAT AN INVITATION? FORDSY, I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE THE DAY."
If it's not, the blush will definitely be worth it anyway.
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Date: 2019-05-27 09:40 pm (UTC)But now Bill's hand is in his hair and they're close together and shit fuck he really wants to do this. Ford's fingertips are a little bit tingly and his face is very warm and the light of Bill's glow doesn't do anything to stop just how wide his pupils are. His heart skips a beat, then starts pounding so hard Ford can hear it in his ears.
He looks Bill in the eye, challenging.
"Come here and find out."
Is it a bluff? Is it not a bluff? Is it just that everything that's been happening has Ford wound up tighter than a cello string and kissing Bill sounds like one of the only things that's felt nice that's happened to him in months? Who knows.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-27 11:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-05-28 03:20 am (UTC)When it breaks, Ford takes a moment to take stock of everything. Take a breath. There, that wasn't the end of the world. That's not due for another few weeks.
Okay.
Ford leans in for the second one. It's a touch bolder, now that the first one has him centered, reassured that nothing's breaking because of it. Still slow, but pushing just a little more, moving a little smoother, a little looser.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-28 03:38 am (UTC)Bill's mouth is...odd. He has to blink out his eye to swap it in, for one thing, but the eyelashes stay close in to his body and don't get in the way. The whole thing feels too thin and too smooth to be human, bows outward oddly. He's warmer than a person, too. The light and heat he puts off come from the same glow of molten energy that keeps him buoyed off the ground at head-height.
"THAT ONLY TOOK US ABOUT A LIFETIME, HUH," Bill murmurs, when this one breaks. He doesn't look like he regrets it.
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Date: 2019-06-01 04:59 am (UTC)"Something like that," Ford replies, just as quiet. "After all, we are both technically dead." He says, very romantically.
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Date: 2019-06-01 05:50 am (UTC)And on that note - we won - Bill kisses him again. This one isn't tentative or gentle, there's several years of frustration finally drifting free from where they had been lashed down and mixing with the boldness that the champagne is giving him and the giddy rush of being so close to victory.
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Date: 2019-06-02 10:38 pm (UTC)Kiss three (or five, depending on how you're counting) is warm, and quickly turns openmouthed. if the other kisses were sparks, this one is a struck match. Ford's hand finds Bill's wrist and slides up his arm, to feel the unusual texture and to bring him closer. Another point of contact, another tether between them, another obstacle to breaking apart too fast.
No, they won't be here much longer. However this operation is going to go, things are going to change. But kissing Bill means that instead of thinking about that, about the rapidly shrinking window of time Ford has, his brain is producing reward chemicals, better than the numbing buzz of the champagne. He can just be in his body for a while, with...
It's more than just the fact that Ford's wanted to kiss Bill for months and hasn't done it. It's that it's Bill. There's weight behind it that wouldn't be there with anyone else. Complicated, horrible history; the sheer odds; the plan they're both neck-deep in. He's escaping, yes, but not from Bill.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-02 10:49 pm (UTC)There's closure in this for Bill. A musical phrase he can finally cap off the last notes on, and move on to something new.
And with a new... friend? Minion? No, neither of those feel exactly right. Ford is - is-
Its hard to think like this. He'll figure it out later.
A small, satisfied sound leaks out of Bill and he turns into the kiss, changing the angle. The vine of his arm starts absently winding around Ford's hand in curls and coils.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-02 11:45 pm (UTC)He's got his back to the piano now, and as he pulls at Bill, stay here, he lets the instrument take more of his weight. If it's on wheels, he's completely forgotten about it and the risk that it might send him falling backwards. If it's not, they're fine.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-03 04:31 am (UTC)Bill's noises have gotten dreamier and less sharp; his pupil is blown out into a shiny circle when they part for Ford to breathe and his movements are slow and soft.
This is nice. Ford is good at this. Why didn't they do this earlier? He has totally forgotten. Who cares.
(He can't see.)
One hand stays on the side of Ford's head, holding him still and occasionally petting with his thumb, the other started latched in a fist around Ford's lapel but loosened into sliding around to his back. His teeth are very sharp, and there's not much room behind them at all, but they make it work.
The bad news is that Bill can still giggle in a loose, dazed way while his mouth is occupied - the voice doesn't come from there. So that happens at apparently random times.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-04 02:57 am (UTC)The fingertips on Bill's back curl sometimes -- not hard, no digging of fingernails, just a twitch every now and again, either an involuntary response or a half-formed desire to touch.
Bill giggles for the third...? Fourth? time (counting isn't important right now) and Ford lets the kiss break apart. He leans his forehead against Bill's point and tries to get enough oxygen in his lungs to ask -- "What - what's so funny?"
(His voice is. His voice has gone very funny, it's all thick and rough now.)
For once, it doesn't sound like pathological fear of being made fun of, or suspicion that he's being tricked. Bill just keeps giggling, and what's with that...?
no subject
Date: 2019-06-04 03:00 am (UTC)Slow blink.
"OH, UH, I WAS THINKING THAT WE HAVE ENOUGH ESTABLISHED BASELINE FOR THE 'EXPERIMENT.'"
But wait! He doesn't want to stop kissing.
"OR... DO WE?"
Smooth.
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Date: 2019-06-04 04:49 am (UTC)"I wouldn't be so sure."
He straightens up off the piano, taking a half-step forward, and leans into a new kiss. This is different from the other kisses. The kissing a moment ago was receptive, cooperative, and pleased. This one is active, decisive, and though Ford adjusts to how he's being kissed back, he's also clearly taking the lead. The hand at Bill's back brings Bill into it -- Bill's getting tilted a little bit backwards. This is a sweep-you-off-your-feet kiss, a kiss that's meant to leave you dizzy when it breaks. He's trying to impress, and he's showing off more than a little.
Hah. Take that. His normal tongue is fine.
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Date: 2019-06-04 05:09 am (UTC)He's gonna feel self-conscious about it later, but right now he just does not have the mental bandwidth.
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Date: 2019-06-05 02:43 am (UTC)But he doesn't have that right now. He doesn't think to let up at the precisely correct moment. He doesn't think to not make a quiet, rough sound low in his throat, pulled out of him by the hand in his hair and the hands clinging to him and the melting sighs. He doesn't carefully time the way he bites Bill's lower lip so he can draw it out just so; it's a touch faster and a little harder than the average magazine-reading suburban housewife would enjoy. He's kissing more urgently than is appropriate in most cases, pushing harder than you would in a casual fling. Causal-fling kisses don't start turning fierce halfway through. They're not this passionate.
When he stops for air, he's very short of breath.
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Date: 2019-06-05 03:05 am (UTC)Ford pulls a not-at-all-protesting "HH-" out of Bill when he bites him, and the increased emotion and energy gets a pull from Bill like quicksand, trying to draw Ford deeper rather than fighting him.
They break. Bill goes back into aimless giggling at nothing, leaning all his (admittedly tiny) weight on Ford. He apparently hears himself and reins it in, stabilizes his floating, but he really got knocked for a loop there.
"EHEHEH. HEH. OKAY. I'M OKAY. WHOO! OH, WOW FORDSY."
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